


alarums and excursions

by acrisione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Quill, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Class Issues, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, Drinking to Cope, Excessive Drinking, Falling In Love, Family, Family Issues, Fear of Death, First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Gang Violence, Gen, Hogwarts Express, Marauders' Era, Ministry of Magic, Minor Character Death, Parseltongue, Pregnancy, Pureblood Politics, Quidditch, Rise of Voldemort, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, Werewolves, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding Traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrisione/pseuds/acrisione
Summary: It was 1971 and a new group of students were to be starting at Hogwarts School. Fate put together five boys who would change the course of the war but time will shape them into who they become.





	1. prologue: plans derailed

_prologue: plans derailed_  
July 1937  
Leicester, England

Margaret was a few steps in front of her parents as she hurried on to the train platform. “Mummy,” she called over her shoulder, dark red hair whipping in the morning wind, “when are we leaving?”

Her father, clad in a light gray suit and with a suitcase in each hand, gave her a smile. Meanwhile, Mary Evans held out one hand to Margaret. “I have told you, ten minutes.”

“Okay,” said Margaret cheerfully, using her free hand to smooth down her pinafore. “I can’t wait!”

Lingering behind the three was nine-year-old Robert. He was carrying both his suitcase and his sister’s and he was dawdling as much as he thought his parents would allow.

“Are you excited, Robbie?” asked Margaret, bouncing back and forth. “I could hardly sleep last night!” That was true. Margaret had stayed up most of the night, mind running eagerly. When her mother had woken her early in the morning to prepare for the ride to Leicester from Cokeworth, she had gotten up with much less complaining than usual.

Robert placed the suitcases down next to his father. He shrugged. “I had a match with my friends tomorrow.”

Their father, Charles, frowned deeply at the boy. “We are going north to visit your aunt Wilma. You understand she has just had twin girls?”

“Babies!” squealed six-year-old Margaret. “Matching little babies!” Mary tightened her grip on her daughter while adjusting her heavy handbag. The ride north to Newcastle would be nearly four hours so she had packed some sandwiches and water to tide the children over until they reached Mary’s sister’s home.

Robert sat down on his suitcase. “Yes, I know.” Robert had been less-than-fond of his Aunt Wilma ever since she had gotten him in trouble for running out late one night two years back. She also had the unfortunate habit of being able to peer right into someone to tell if they were lying – all the more reason to steer clear of her.

“You had better fix that attitude before we get there, Robert,” said Mary sternly. Robert had been less easy to awaken and it was only under threat of a smacking that he got up and ready that morning.

“Mummy, daddy, look!” Margaret shrieked, pointing off to the distance. A train was approaching the station. “Look!” She had been too young to recall their last trip to Aunt Wilma or her last time on a train.

Robert, carefully hidden behind his parent’s backs, rolled his green eyes. He pulled up on his socks as he got ready to board the train. His hair was parted and smoothed down and he had been shoved into his nicest blazer that morning. Why they all had to look their best for Aunt Wilma was a mystery to him.

The few dozen other people milling around the platform perked up as the train approached. A woman who looked almost too bleary-eyed to be standing took hold of her husband’s hand. A gaggle of teenagers and their harassed looking caretakers were grabbing hold of their bags with eager faces.

Margaret was standing as still as she could bear. Mary had urged her to cease jumping, though the little girl was impatient to board the train. Finally, Charles gave the all clear and he ushered Robert forward. They boarded just behind the sleepy woman.

“Whoa!” Margaret breathed when they entered on to the train. Walking in between her parents did not afford her the greatest of views but she was still overwhelmed. Wide windows on each side of the train gave a clear view of the outside. The wooden floors were a light tan color, the walls a funny shade of teal. Overheard were racks where some people had already stowed their luggage. The seats were double wide and facing each other. The floor was dingy and some of the windows smudged but that did not seem to bother the little girl. Mary and Charles put up the luggage and then put Mary in a seat with her back to the doors and Robert in the seat across from her. “It is amazing, mummy!” said Margaret as Mary took a seat next to her and Charles one next to Robert. “I want to do this all the time!”

Where they were going to go or where the money was going to come from was a mystery to Robert but he kept his face nicely empty when so close to his parent’s watchful eyes. Then, over his mother’s shoulder, he spotted the most peculiar man he had even seen. Three seats behind his mother and sister was a man in his early thirties. His black hair was long and he was wearing something that looked almost like an emerald green wizard’s robe. Robert tried to stand, looking to see whether the man had on a funny shirt or if his garment really did reach the floor. Charles yanked him back before he could do that. “But –,” he cut in, frowning. Then suddenly the man’s eyes met his and a chill went through Robert’s body.

“Mum,” he said, nerves tingling, glancing quickly away from the strange man. “I think we should get off the train.”

Margaret gave him a dirty look. “We have to go see the babies, Robbie!” she said in a scandalized voice.

Charles sighed. “I am not going to have this.”

“No, really,” said Robert, voice low. “Please!” When his parents did not respond he risked a glance back at the strange man. He was looking serenely out the window. “Look at him, dad, please! I think there is something wrong with that man!”

Sighing once more, Charles followed his son’s gaze to the man sitting three rows behind his wife. “Yes, Robert,” he said, looking away, “that is a strange man. But it is no reason to get off the train.”

Margaret was trying to stand up in her seat to get a good look.

“I have a bad feeling,” Robert muttered. He felt foolish and angry, hands shaking as he twisted them in his lap.

Mary yanked Margaret down and wrapped one arm around the little girl’s shoulders. “No staring at people, either of you,” she admonished, “it is rude. Now,” she said, voice much more kind, “everything is going to be okay.”

“Promise?” asked Robert.

Charles relaxed a little upon hearing his son’s worried tone. “Yes, son,” he said, “we promise.” The train lurched suddenly and Margaret gasped.

Robert took a deep breath and looked out the window at the now empty platform. It felt like it was going to be a long ride.

As the train began its path up to Newcastle, Robert settled into his seat and Margaret kept up a steady stream of commentary as she peered out the window at the fast-moving scenery. Charles was pursuing the day’s paper while Mary listened to her daughter with a patient expression.

Eventually, the dim morning light was replaced by bright shining yellow sunlight and the buildings thinned out into countryside. By this point Robert was squirming in his seat and Margaret had quieted down. “Either of you ready for a little something?” Mary asked. Charles had finished his paper.

“Yes, mummy, please!” said Margaret right away. Robert shrugged.

Mary opened up her hang bag and pulled out two wrapped sandwiches and a Thermos full of water. “Be careful, the both of you,” Mary said as she passed out the sandwiches.

Lunch passed quickly and before long Margaret was licking the last of the water from her lips. “How much longer?” she asked.

Robert looked up at his mother, ready for the answer and then startled. The strange man had gotten up and was heading in his direction. Robert followed his movements with wide eyes. The emerald robe was cinched at the waist was a piece of black fabric and was so long that Robert could just barely see the man’s heeled boots pointing out the bottom. There was a strange symbol around his neck, something like a triangle with a line in it. Margaret stilled in her response to the answer and peered, open-mouthed, at the man as he strode by.

Both children looked at their mother with shocked eyes. Mary frowned. “What did I say about staring?” Her pinched expression was not lost on Robert and he noticed her eyes lingering on the man. There was a noise like a door opening and then Mary turned her eyes away. “Robert, I thought you brought one of your comic books. Shall I get it for you?”

“Okay, mum, thank you,” Robert said. His heart was racing. Something about that man was chilling to the core. It was not the funny way he dressed, no. He locked eyes with Margaret and could tell she was thinking the same thing. She was twisting the end of the blue dress that stuck out under her pinafore.

As Mary stood to reach into the suitcases, Margaret let out a sharp scream. “What is it?” Charles asked wildly as an elderly woman nearby gave the whole family a fierce look. Robert whipped his eyes over to the window opposite them. He could just barely see something that looked like the man standing out among the grass.

“What?” he stammered and as he said that Margaret let out another scream. Robert gasped as the man turned, disappeared and was gone.

“Did you see that?” he cried, looking at his mother and father in turn. Mary had sat down without opening up their luggage.

Margaret started in on what they had seen but before she could get out fewer than a couple words Charles leaned over and whispered to her. She frowned, green eyes swimming with tears. “But Daddy, that man was outside. Then he was gone!”

“Yes,” said Robert, desperate to have validation for what he had seen. “Please, dad.”

Mary looked furious. “I do not want to hear another word out of either of you,” she hissed, voice so low it was tough to hear.

Margaret closed her eyes and a few tears leaked down her face. Robert, stomach now sick from nerves, turned away from her and began to study the floor.

Then, suddenly, there was a great screeching noise as the train hurtled to a stop. Robert looked out the window but saw only fields. “Mummy?” Margaret asked, petrified. She began twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. “Daddy?”

“I am sure it is nothing,” Charles said stiffly. He was still reeling from the earlier embarrassment.

Down the length of the train, like a great wave, came a growing tide of screams. The old woman stood up, scowling then screamed herself and fell to the floor. The man in the green was flying by the windows on a broomstick! Margaret and Robert howled, ducking onto the floor. Charles leapt to his feet, heart-pounding erratically. Mary was trying to help the old woman back into her seat.

The screams had died down and now a constant, dull muttering was filling the train. “Mummy!” Margaret wept. She was clutching onto her brother, shaking so hard she almost toppled both of them flat on to the ground.

Charles was standing still from shock. Mary helped the woman back in to her seat and then gaped out the window.

Then the train lurched. Luggage went flying. Margaret and Robert howled as their father was tipped sideways, their bags flying onto him. Mary leapt on top of her children, a frantic prayer coming from her lips.

Robert had joined Margaret in her crying. The train righted itself on the tracks for a moment. Charles tried to extract himself from the luggage, bleeding from a spot near his temple and looking weak-eyed.

“What’s happening?” Robert wailed, one of many asking the same question.

Mary was too busying praying to answer.

Charles, free from the luggage, abandoned the rest of the passengers trying to correct themselves and swooped down on his family, covering them as best he could. “Do not worry children,” he said, voice shaking, “it will be okay.”

The train gave another great lurch and toppled over onto its side. The grinding of metal, the dull thump of luggage and people, the boom as the train hit the ground and the terrified screams of dozens of people was all Margaret could hear as she clutched onto his mother’s forearms, eyes screwed tightly shut.

Suddenly, just as it started, it stopped. The train was on its side. The wheels were still spinning. Some people were trapped under fallen luggage, others tangled under those who had once been sitting next to them. Glass from the windows that had impacted the ground had shattered.

“See,” said Charles, legs aching, “it is okay. We are okay.”

Robert looked up and saw from behind his father the old woman, lying dead nearby. Her head was oozing blood still but her eyes were vacant. He gave a deafening scream at the sight.

Charles looked back then quickly went to cover his children’s eyes. “Don’t look, darling, please,” he urged.

Then, Mary glanced up and all color drained from her face. The side of the train car, now right above them, seemed to be melting.

Robert and Margaret squirmed from their parents grasp to look up. They were on top of their parents, uninjured but terrified. A drop of the melting metal landed onto Margaret’s cheek. Her skin melted off with it, her eyes bulging from the pain, her mouth open in a silent scream. Neither Robert nor his parents had time to react as the rest of the train turned molten and covered them in boiling agony.

The man in the emerald robes put his broom over one shoulder and Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gimmick here is based off an idea I have had for a while: how things would have been different had Lily never been born. This opening chapter was to establish just how her not coming to be came to be


	2. chapter one: a half-blood?

_chapter one: a half-blood?_  
September 1971  
Hogwarts School

All things considered, the ride to Hogwarts could have gone a lot worse. Severus Snape had gotten on to find most of the compartments filled. He picked his way through the crowd and finally found near the end an empty one. He settled down, wrapping his cloak around himself. Shortly into the journey he came across a pair of boys who just seemed to scream trouble, though they left as quickly as they came. An elderly witch came by asking if he would like something to eat but Severus did not even have the money for proper robes, let alone a chocolate frog or licorice wand.

When the train had finally stopped and Severus stepped off the train into the slightly chilly night air he was immediately greeted by a swarm of boys who seemed like likely candidates for Slytherin House. They jostled past him rudely, heading for the overlarge man calling for first years. Two of them in particular, one with bouncy blond hair and another whose black hair seemed to shine red under the gas lights, were dressed richly. He scowled as he followed after them. A pudgy blond boy looked at him for a moment as they crowded around a man who introduced himself as Hagrid but as he caught sight of Severus’s eyes he looked away and hid himself behind one of the taller girls. The older students were talking and laughing as they headed away but most of the first years were silent and shivering with nerves.

The boy with the blond hair and expensive cloak was one of the few talking. He sounded posh. “Father was telling me all about the Sorting this morning,” he was saying. “Of course, Edwin and Elliot have told me too. I expect I will not have to have that mangy thing on my head for long.”

One student, who had not gotten her cloak on just right and was gazing around with a little too much wonder, was listening intently.

Another boy, this one with light brown curls, leaned in close to the blond. “You expect there’ll be Mudbloods in our year?” He glanced up at Hagrid, who seemed not to have heard. A few straggling first years were still struggling to get over.

“Oh,” said the one whose black hair shone red, “I am sure. You cannot go anywhere these days without running into one. Father tells me, however, that it is rare to have one in Slytherin.”

“That is what matters most,” said the blond, nodding. “That we do not have to live with them. Well, not properly.”

A boy to his right shot a nasty glare up at the wild looking Hagrid. “I hope it is just the four of us.”

Severus did not have time to hear the rest, as Hagrid had begun beckoning everyone forward and he was lost in thought. With his shabby robes, secondhand books and Muggle father, it did not seem like he was going to be having a great time with these boys. He steeled himself as they approached the edge of the dark lake. As Severus squeezed into the boat next to a boy who was shaking with nerves and a girl who was clutching her cat to her chest like a lifeline, he closed his eyes.

It was no use worrying yet. They were not even Sorted.

There was not much talk as the boats glided smoothly across the gently rippling surface of the lake. Everyone around him was still, likely fearful of falling in. Finally, they emerged close enough to Hogwarts for a series of gasps to ring out. Severus was impressed despite himself as he watched the towering castle rise into view, many lights glittering through the windows.

When the boats reached shore it seemed that everyone was already inside. A tall witch in green robes and with a stern expression was waiting at the door. Her black hair was almost entirely hidden beneath her pointed hat. She ushered the first years up the stairs and left them momentarily in the entrance hall.

The blond boy was gazing lazily up a wide set of stairs while the girl with the cat was taking in all the various portraits with a look of wonder. Meanwhile, the girl who was now undoubtedly of Muggle birth, gasped as her eyes landed on a painting of a group of warlocks locked in a fierce duel. They paused for a moment to wave and then resumed their battle.

Finally the woman who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall opened a wide the set of double doors leading into the Great Hall and beckoned for the students to enter. The four boys who Severus had overheard were suddenly looking nervous.

The Great Hall had four long tables, each filled with a colorful array of students. Thousands of candles flickered overhead and Severus noticed that the roof displayed a starry, clear sky. Between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables they walked until at last they were assembled in front of a small stool, on which an ancient looking hat was perched. Behind it was a long table filled with teachers, in the middle a throne that housed a wizard Severus knew to be Dumbledore. He was looking kindly down at them all.

“When I call your name,” McGonagall said, “you will come forward and place this hat upon your head. When it decides for you your House, you will go at once to sit with your fellows.”

There was total silence in the Great Hall as McGonagall swept away. Then, suddenly, the hat began to sing. A boy with glasses and wild black hair seemed enraptured by the rhyme but Severus was eager to get Sorted. Not to mention the fact that his stomach ached from hunger. Once the Hat was finished McGonagall came back, a long list clutched in one hand.

“Adrian, Kevin,” was the first called. He hustled forward, nearly tripped over his robe and grimaced when the hat was placed on his light-colored hair. A few moments went by before the Hat called “Ravenclaw!” and the table to Severus’s right erupted into frenzied cheering.

Next up was “Avery, Oswald,” the boy whose black hair shined red in the light. He gave his friends a smile and stepped forward. The Hat barely touched Avery’s head before it shouted “Slytherin!”. His friends cheered as he headed over to the Slytherin table. Severus noticed that the Slytherins were cheering quite loud, which seemed like a response to some negative reactions from the other students.

“Black, Sirius” was called next and Severus stilled. He recognized that name. When Black strode forward Severus was shocked to see that he was one of the two boys who had hassled him on the train. Black sat down on the stool with all the good grace he had been reared with. A moment went by. Then another. Some of the Slytherins started to stir. Severus looked to the Slytherin table and saw a pretty older girl with long blonde hair glaring at Black. A tittering went through the Hall and then the Hat shouted “Gryffindor!” and all talk ceased at once. The Slytherin table was silent. McGonagall lifted the hat from the boy’s head and he, after a moment’s hesitation, headed happily over to the Gryffindor table, where most of them had broken out of their shock and had begun to cheer.

The blond began to mutter with his friends, all of whom were looking angry. The blonde girl was deep in conversation with a friend. The Muggleborn got sorted into Hufflepuff, the shaking boy became a Ravenclaw and the Sorting dragged on. Finally, the dark-haired boy who only wanted there to be four male Slytherins was called up. “Mulciber, Steven” quickly became a Slytherin and “Nettlebed, Tiffany” joined him shortly after.

Eventually “Pettigrew, Peter” and “Potter, James” became Gryffindors. Severus was getting increasingly nervous as the crowd of first years dwindled and the alphabet reached closer to ‘S’. The blond boy was revealed to be “Rosier, Evan” and he got his wish, becoming the eighth new Slytherin. There were two girls ahead of Severus, one a Slytherin and the other a Hufflepuff. Finally, McGonagall called “Snape, Severus” and he hurried forward.

The Hall was mostly silent as the Hat was slide over his head. A moment ticked by and then it shouted “Slytherin!”. Grinning, Severus headed over to the cheering Slytherin table. A blond boy, prefect badge on his chest, gestured for Severus to take a seat next to him. He patted Severus on the back while his pretty friend kept on talking, “I am going to write straight away, Lucius, I mean it.” Her voice was high and cold. She resembled Evan Rosier by quite a lot.

Evan himself did not seem completely sad to see a fifth male Slytherin. He was sitting across from Severus and had broken away from his whispered conversation with Steven to give Severus a small smile. Evan was small, with wavy blond hair that reached past his ears, bright blue eyes and a round, merry face. He reached a hand forward and Severus shook it, feeling awkward. “My name is Evan Rosier,” he said, “though I expect you would know that. I like your name, Severus. A proper wizard’s name, don’t you think?” Evan seemed a little full of himself but Severus nodded, relieved not to be instantly disliked. “Did you know,” Evan continued on, oblivious, “that my father is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?”

“I thought the name Rosier sounded familiar,” Severus muttered. He had glanced at the _Prophet_ on occasion.

“Yes, well,” Evan said, sounding even more pompous, “please do not forget that.” Steven gave Evan a contemptuous look as “Wilkes, Henry,” was sorted into Slytherin.

The curly haired boy sat down to Severus’s right. He was grinning. “All four of us together!” He glanced at Severus. “And this is?”

Reaching across as the food finally appeared and their golden plates no longer had an excuse to be empty, the prefect named Lucius clicked his fingers under Henry’s nose. “Manners, please,” he said. He snatched up a basket of steaming rolls.

“Oh, Lucius,” said the girl next to him. She, too, wore a prefect’s badge. “Be kinder. I do not think he meant it like that.” She leaned forward so that the first years to her left could get a better look. She had Evan’s blond hair and blue eyes but her face was a little sharper, her nose upturned rather than straight. “First years, listen up, please. I am, as some of you know,” she smiled at Evan especially, “Narcissa Black.” She pointed across the table from herself. “This is Andrew Puecy. We are your fifth year prefects. If you need any help, please do not hesitate to ask.”

That seemed to be the end of that. Severus began to pile food onto his plate as conversation erupted around him. No one else seemed eager for his attention so he ate more than he had ever in a single sitting before sitting back, feeling vaguely ill.

“You going to write to your aunt and uncle, Narcissa?” Steven asked. A bit of mashed potato was visible between the gap where one of his front teeth was missing.

Narcissa laughed and held up a piece of parchment. “I will be heading right to the Owlery, once you children are safe in the common room.”

Glancing back at the Gryffindor table, it was with difficultly that Severus located Sirius Black. He was talking to the pudgy blond, the wild-haired boy and another whose name was Remus Lupin, if Severus recalled correctly. He turned away.

Dinner disappeared for a moment and someone gasped, his hand inches away from what had been a pile of chicken wings. “You will be okay, Macnair,” said a boy with short black hair and a twisted face.

Severus did not have much room for the dessert that came next and chose instead to listen to the conversation around him. He might have come from a Slytherin witch but he felt woefully unprepared. Why did all those around him have to know each other, to already be friends? By the time dessert was over he had learned a lot.

Narcissa Black and Evan Rosier were cousins. Lucius Malfoy was seated next to him. Antonin Dolohov was the boy with the twisted face. Curly-haired and bored looking was Augustus Rookwood, who seemed to be quite close with fellow sixth year, Lucius. Walden Macnair was a second year, though he seemed too tall for that to be true. The Lestrange brothers were seated by Narcissa. Both had dark red hair and sharp, angular faces. Rodolphus was older and much taller. Rabastan seemed to have inherited the stocker build that, apparently according to a girl with a pug nose named Violet Blishwick, had come from their mother’s line. They were third and fourth years, which seemed to make a little more sense. Narcissa had only one sister, though that did not appear to be totally true from the way they said it. However, whoever Bellatrix was, it was clear after a little while that she had already finished school. A girl with light brown hair was seated down the far end of the table. She was alone and when Bellatrix was mentioned a glare was sent her way. Whoever that seventh year was, Severus did not know. They all appeared to be excited for the next year, in which Narcissa’s cousin and Sirius Black’s younger brother, Regulus, would start school. They were sure _he_ would be a Slytherin.

Eventually dessert was over, Dumbledore stood to give a speech that the Slytherins around Severus did not seem to respect. Lucius and Augustus were conversing about NEWTs. Augustus apparently harbored an ambition to become an Unspeakable. All this information was carefully stored by Severus, at least so he would not seem so out of the loop come a time when they spoke to him again.

Finally, with a wave of his hands, Dumbledore dismissed the students to bed. Lucius nearly leapt to his feet. He struggled to suppress a yawn. “Come on first years!” Andrew Puecy said, waving. “I want all eleven of you around me!” Severus exchanged a look with Henry and a girl whose name he believed to be Mildred Cowley. A seventh year girl with a black bow in her curled brown hair jostled by.

“You three stay here with me,” Narcissa said. “Give it a moment for the Hall to empty out and then we can get going. You are all tired, I would bet.”

“I sure am!” said Evan as he clustered around Andrew Puecy.

Rodolphus and Rabastan walked by. They did not seem to acknowledge the first years. They pushed past a group of Hufflepuffs and high-tailed it out the doors.

“They are friendlier than they seem,” Narcissa said, casting a gentle smile on Severus and Mildred.

Lucius bent to whisper something in Narcissa’s ear and after carefully placing his blond hair, joined the final few Slytherins in leaving for the dungeons.

Once the Great Hall had been cleared to Narcissa’s and Andrew’s satisfaction, they ushered the eleven first years down the length of the Slytherin table, through the doors and down to a side ramp Severus had not noticed before. “Keep close, first years,” Andrew advised as he began heading down the ramp.

Narcissa gave them good advice as they headed deeper into the dungeons. It was getting colder the further they went and Severus noticed that Oswald was beginning to shiver. She told them about where to locate their classes, about mealtimes and breaks, how to avoid the caretaker and even what seemed like a strong suggestion to “put up a united front” when they were outside the common room.

After descending another spiral staircase and walking a short ways down a narrow torch lit passage Narcissa and Andrew came to a stop in front of a bare stretch of wall.

“Is this it?” Tiffany Nettlebed asked. “How can we recognize it?”

Andrew pointed and they turned to see a torch blazing away on the wall opposite. “If you hit the painting of a man with a hook you have gone too far.”

“Ooh, wait!” Narcissa cried and they all followed her eyes to see a ghost gliding down the corridor. “It is the Bloody Baron!” She smiled. “We missed you at dinner, Baron.” The Bloody Baron had a gaunt face and, true to his name, was covered in blood. Evan shivered, clutching at Henry’s robes as he gazed in wide-eyed fear at what was the spookiest ghost Severus had ever seen.

The Bloody Baron spoke in a low, rasping voice. “Narcissa, Peeves was causing a terrible disturbance in the Charms corridor.”

“Trying to make it so class is shut down tomorrow?” asked Andrew.

“I believe so,” said the Bloody Baron. He gave the first years a nod and continued gliding down the passage.

They watched as the Bloody Baron rounded a corner. Then Narcissa said, “And be careful of Peeves. Nasty little poltergeist. It is best to just avoid whatever area he is in.”

“Why can’t someone throw him out?” Steven asked. A couple of the others nodded and Severus could not help but agree. He had heard a little from his mother about Peeves.

Andrew gave a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, better wizards than Dumbledore have tried. But they can’t go anywhere unless they want to and Peeves is more than content here.”

“Lovely,” Evan muttered.

“Now,” Narcissa said primly, turning their attention back to the blank stone wall. “The password changes every fortnight. Please look to the notice board, as it will always be posted there. It goes without saying that none of you are to tell others our password. Similarly, it is forbidden for any of you to bring a non-Slytherin into the common room, okay?” She gave them a pleasant smile but her eyes were serious.

“Last thing before bed time,” Andrew piped up, “we need to remind you lot once again to not forget to call upon either Narcissa or myself if you require any assistance. Outside the common room, any other Slytherin should be willing to give you directions but don’t count on help from a Gryffindor or anyone else.”

One of the girls, Fatima Shafiq, frowned. “Is that not a bad attitude to have? An impediment to making friends from the other Houses?”

“You would think,” Narcissa said, “though as fifth years we have run the race and can assure that nine times out a ten, those from the other Houses will not want anything to do with you.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment. “Your older brother is a sixth year Ravenclaw?”

“Yep,” Fatima replied.

“It is not a bad attitude to have,” Andrew said, surveying the first years, “but it is an unrealistic one. Now,” he said grandly, “the password is honeywater.”

An opening appeared. “Don’t forget it!” Andrew warned as the first years clamored into the common room. Severus noticed Narcissa turn and hurry back the way they came down the passageway.

“I’m worried that I will forget the way,” Oswald was muttering to Henry. A few of them seemed to be thinking the same.

The common room, Severus thought, was magnificent. It was a long, low-ceiling room of rough stone. Hanging from chains were green lanterns. A beautifully carved fireplace was roaring, though the low backed chairs and couches near it were devoid of students. There were dark wood cabinets around the notice board, a chess table and a decent assortment of circular tables with sets of green-cushioned chairs on the opposite end as the fireplace. In the very back there was an open view into the lake and, listening closely, Severus could hear the movement of the water. There were tapestries hanging from the walls and the floors were covered in plush carpets. In front of the large back windows, was a slightly raised platform that had a few more low backed seats on it. In one corner there was a tall statute of someone Severus assumed to be Salazar Slytherin himself.

Andrew ushered them all in, giving them a few moments to revel in the sight of their shared space. Then he clapped his hands soundly and said, “Look, now, over to your right. You see past those tables? The door on the right is for girls, the one on the left for boys. Go to bed now. Trust me, you will need all your sleep.”

He did not wait to see if they followed his instructions. Most of the common room was empty, though Severus did see Rabastan Lestrange sticking a poster onto the notice board about Quidditch tryouts.

Still together in a tight group they headed to the dormitories. Through the boys door they saw a long corridor, three doors on each side and one at the very end.

From the door labeled “fourth years” came Rodolphus Lestrange. He had already changed into a black silk night shirt and his long hair looked freshly combed. “Did you know,” he said, “that Slytherin is unique in the way the dormitories operate?”

“Oh, who cares?” shouted another fourth year from the open door. Rodolphus slammed it shut.

“Normally,” he said, acting otherwise if he had not noticed an interruption, “the room you sleep in stays the same; merely the plaque outside the door changes.” He gestured at his own. “In Slytherin, however, you move dorms each year. The seventh year one is a little larger and who doesn’t want the room at the end of the corridor? Anyway, what I mean is: don’t leave your things behind over the summer because you will be moving.”

“Why is that?” Steven asked.

Rodolphus frowned deeply. “Why do I speak if no one listens?”

The door opened behind them and Rabastan came in. “I finished putting up the poster for that tyrant Malfoy and I come in here to see you harassing first years?”

“I am older than you,” said Rodolphus simply. He went back into his room and slammed the door shut.

Rabastan barely noticed his brother’s reaction. “Rodolphus forgot a scarf of his over the summer. He was none too pleased when he came to collect it and found it missing.”

“I heard about that,” Evan said. Oswald was inching toward the door on their left, the one labeled “first years”. “Is there somewhere he can find it?”

Rabastan turned around so they could see him roll his eyes. “What do you think?”

“Certainly they couldn’t just take it. Therefore it has to be somewhere.” Henry said this with an air of genius.

“’Somewhere’,” Rabastan deadpanned. “There is a little lost and found close by the library. You would do well to remember that.” He went into his own room, leaving the five first years alone in the dimly lit corridor.

Henry shook his head, angry, as Oswald pushed open the door to their dormitory. It was rectangular, the walls and floor made of the same rough stone. Five four-poster beds, each covered in green silks, were lined up against the far wall, a small dark wood table between each. Their trunks had been piled up next to the door. Two low, wide dressers sat evenly spaced across from the beds. In the corner was a small table on which sat a pitcher of water. Across from the door into the room was another, which presumably led to the bathrooms. There were small scones above each bed, each one emitting a glow of white light. Another green lantern hung from the ceiling down the aisle in front of the beds.

A fairly large orange cat was lying on the third bed from the door. Upon seeing him, Steven rushed forward. “Pumpkin!”

“I was wondering where Pumpkin was!” Evan cried. He too ran to see the cat. Severus stood near the doorway, watching the scene unfold. Mostly he just wanted to claim a bed and go to sleep but he had the feeling it was best to see what the other’s wanted first.

The cat was an orange tabby. Under his chin and the front of his chest was stark white, though the rest was a beautiful rainbow of different shades of orange. Darker bands, almost like bracelets, were present near the cat’s upper arms and off the edges of his grape green eyes the darker lines reappeared. His tail was stripped, the very tip of it a color similar to cream. The cat had long whiskers, a pink nose and short fur.

Steven bundled Pumpkin into his arms and kissed the top of his cats’ head. “I missed you, Pumpkin!”

“How old is the cat?” Severus asked Henry. Evan was petting Pumpkin’s back and Oswald was extracting his trunk from the pile.

Henry gave Severus a short glare before responding. “Two.”

“He is so cute!” Evan was saying, bending forward so he could give Pumpkin a kiss. “I was worried the train ride was going to scare him but he seems okay! And it looks like he picked out a bed for you.” With that, Evan sprinted to the bed farthest from the door. “This one is mine!” he declared as he bounced on top of it.

Oswald shrugged. “I’ll have the one by Steven’s.” He pulled his trunk in front of the second bed closest to the door.

Severus had a sinking feeling he was going to get the worst pick. This was confirmed when Henry took hold of his trunk and began yanking it down the aisle to the bed between Evan and Steven.

With a sigh and a bit of trouble due to the weight of his trunk, Severus got his into position near both the bathroom door and the bedroom door.

“So,” Evan said while Oswald pulled a wrapped bag from his trunk and went into the bathroom with it, “Severus Snape. I don’t know any Snapes.”

Steven shot him an ugly look from overtop his cat.

His cheeks lit up red. “No,” Severus said, trying not to snarl from the indignity of it, “but my mother is a Prince.”

Evan was quiet for a moment and Severus could tell he was contemplating what he had said. “Prince,” the blond said after a moment. “Yes, I suppose that does sound familiar.” He stiffened, nose in the air. “You must be a half-blood, then.”

Oswald poked his head out of the bathroom door, toothbrush in one hand. “You are a half-blood?”

“Your father is not a Muggle!” Henry nearly shouted this. He had an air of excitement around him and it suddenly struck Severus that none of them had likely ever met a Muggle before.

Severus shrugged, cheeks still red, heart pounding. The others boys took this a confirmation and they had begun talking at once. All but Oswald, who ducked back into the bathroom with a sour look on his face.

“That is,” Steven said, pausing for a moment to think, “unfortunate.”

Severus had to agree with that. He was so angry and embarrassed, however, that he just sprung out of bed and began rifling through his trunk. The sooner he could get to bed the better.

He pulled from his trunk a nightshirt and the shopping bag he had hastily packed that morning. The shopping bag held everything he would need to have brought for the bathroom. Inside was much more marvelous than he would have thought. There was five sinks set into a marble countertop, the tap of each curled to resemble a snake. Three cubicles were on one wall and across from the door were five shower stalls. The floor of the bathroom was of a much smoother stone, the walls tiled half-way up in a deep green. The curtains to the showers were of a similar green color and upon closer inspection Severus discovered that the water flowed from what looked like the open mouth of a snake.

In front of the mirrors, at the sink closest the door, Oswald was brushing his shoulder length hair. Severus noticed that the shower he peeked into already had Oswald’s soaps in it. He shut the curtain and headed over to the sinks. Evan came rushing in then, pausing for only a moment to look and then loudly called the last sink for himself. Severus took the one next to Oswald and began putting his things down.

He noticed Oswald peering at him as he squeezed toothpaste onto his brush. “What is it?” Severus asked.

Oswald’s lip nearly curled. “A blood traitor for a mother, huh.”

Severus scowled, toothbrush forgotten. He closed his eyes for a moment in a desperate attempt to calm down. His heart had started pounding again. “I hate Muggles,” he said through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes to see Oswald raise an eyebrow.

“I guess that is something.” Oswald had almond-shaped, dark eyes, a wide, flat nose and a round face. He looked a lot nicer than he actually seemed. Severus had overheard at dinner that the Avery family owned a large publishing house, one responsible for the publishing of most of their school books. It made him feel a little sour that he might have given the Avery’s a little more money, if this was the way their son was going to treat him.

Severus put his toothbrush down, put the rest of his things away in one of the empty shower stalls, then picked up his toothbrush in the arm not holding the shopping bag and then swept out of the bathroom without saying another word to Oswald. While brushing his teeth he pulled back open his trunk and extracted his school bag from it. From within, careful not to drip anything on it, he pulled out his textbooks. Most, he noticed, were from Merge Books.

Oswald strolled out of the bathroom, took one look at the pile of books on Severus’s bed and said, “Miranda Goshawk is a gift to my family. Father has her around for dinner occasionally.”

“That’s lovely,” Severus muttered, bits of foam falling down his lips.

Oswald laughed cruelly while Steven said, “You are a real bastard, you know that, Oswald?”

A few minutes later Severus had finished brushing his teeth, changed into his nightshirt, yanked the curtains closed around his bed and, to his great surprise the next morning, fell asleep almost instantly. That next morning he awoke from a sound sleep, had a moment of peace and then the night before and the fact that he was finally going to start learning magic came crashing down around him and his stomach erupted into a bundle of nerves.

Severus pulled back the curtains on his bed to reveal that he was apparently the last to awake. The bathroom door was open and he could hear what sounded like Evan humming from inside. Oswald was fully dressed and adjusting his scarf around his neck. Steven’s boots were on his bed but he seemed more interested in petting the slumbering Pumpkin. Henry was nowhere to be found.

“Good morning,” Steven said as Severus placed his feet on the cold stone.

He turned around, eyes widening in shock. “Good morning,” Severus replied, a little too stiff. Steven had not looked up from Pumpkin.

Severus was just moving to get a pair of his robes out his trunk when he heard Steven say, “Do you want to pet him?”

Evan came out of the bathroom then, blond hair shining, teeth white and himself fully dressed. “I don’t know about that, Steven.”

Abandoning his robes, Severus strode carefully over to where Steven had bundled the sleeping Pumpkin in his arms. “Careful now,” he warned. Severus could feel Evan’s eyes boring into his back as he ran a hand along Pumpkin’s silky fur.

“He feels so good,” Severus said, a little surprised. He had never actually petted a cat before.

“We feed him only the best,” Steven replied and he laid Pumpkin back down on his pillow.

Severus gave Steven a small smile which the other boy did not return and then resumed getting ready. He noticed with a jolt that what had once been gray lining had now turned green and the crest on the right breast of the robes, which had ones been of Hogwarts, now was solely Slytherin. “It’s amazing how they get the robes to change after we’re Sorted,” he spoke aloud.

“They set out a scarf for each of us, did you notice?” Evan said. “It seems like a scam to me. We get a free one but then we will have to go to Diagon Alley to get more. What a way to weasel money out of us.” He did not seem to be too put upon, considering he was playing with the ends of the free scarf that he had already put on.

On top of the dresser in front of his bed was a lone scarf. It was neatly folded and striped in alternating green and silver. “I think it’s nice,” he said.

“You would,” said Evan with a nasty glance at Severus’s ratty, secondhand robes. “I hope you understand that I cannot be seen with you. Not when you are dressed in that manner.”

Henry appeared out of the bathroom, fully dressed and his curly hair still a little damp. “Oswald, you ready to go?” He turned to Steven. “I am starving!”

Severus, who was not feeling hungry and in fact was quite sure that he was perhaps still a little full, gaped at Henry as he pulled his boots and socks free from his trunk. With his clothes in hand, he got back on the bed and disappeared behind the curtains in order to change.

“You don’t have to hide!” Oswald said, laughing. He muttered something Severus could not hear. “But yes, Henry, I am ready to go to breakfast.”

“Well,” said Steven, “I am not. Can you not wait for me?”

Severus pulled his robes down and hastily crammed on his socks and laced up his boots. He opened up the curtains, nightshirt in one hand, to see all four of his dorm mates staring at him. “Uhm,” he stammered, “what?”

Oswald pointed at Severus’s open trunk. “I thought I saw something last night and now I am sure!” Severus followed Oswald’s finger to see a book near the top labeled _Moste Potente Potions_.

“Well, so what?” he said testily. Severus threw his nightshirt inside and then slammed the lid shut. “I got it from my mum.”

“My father would never let me bring something like that to school,” Evan said, staring down his nose at Severus.

“My parents don’t care what I do or don’t do, Rosier, so I can’t see why you should.” He secured his cloak around his neck and began pulling on his scarf, back turned to the four boys. Severus was so busy blocking them out that he did not realize when they re-opened his trunk and had started rummaging through it. It was only when _Magick Moste Evile_ was shoved under his nose that he discovered what was happening. “Hey!” he cried, whipped around to yank it out of Henry’s hand. “What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” Evan asked, a new note of respect in his nasally voice.

Severus had ceased fixing his scarf so he could properly glare at his fellows. “Don’t go through my things! And don’t tell anyone I have these books!” He snatched _Moste Potente Potions_ from Oswald and _Confronting the Faceless_ from Steven. He dumped all three back into his trunk and once again slammed the lid shut.

“Where did you get those?” Evan asked and Severus was forcibly reminded of the fact that Evan’s father was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“They’re my mum’s. I brought them with me from home.” He shuffled uncomfortably in front of their interested gazes. “Don’t know what the big deal is,” he muttered. Severus went back to fixing the scarf all the while far too aware of the pink blush that had overtaken his cheeks.

Steven shot Severus’s trunk one last look and then he hustled over to his bed and began pulling his boots on. Evan, Oswald and Henry exchanged looks that meant nothing to Severus and apparently something to them because after a moment’s hesitation, Oswald asked, “Do you know anyone?”

“Do I know anyone?” Severus repeated. He pushed past them to get into the bathroom so he could finish getting ready.

“Do you have any friends or family here?” Oswald continued. He had followed Severus into the bathroom and was watching him in an appraising way as Severus brushed his teeth.

After Severus had finished and washed his brush off, he turned to face Oswald with a sour expression. “Why? None of you cared about me last night.” He started brushing his dark hair, feeling more than a little put upon.

“You’re a first year. Why would you have books like that?” Oswald asked. He was leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed and his fringe was nearly blocking his eyes.

“What do those questions have to do with each other?” Severus asked, wincing as he pulled at a particularly bad knot.

Steven appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, schoolbag over his shoulder. “We want to know why you have those.”

“I told you!” he shouted, throwing his brush down. “They belong to my mum! I’ve read them before and I like them so I brought them to school with me! And if you lot could not tell anyone I would really like that!”

Evan flounced into the bathroom. “We know that. Why did your mother let you do that? Why are those books so freely available to you? I mean, we have them at home. But am I permitted to bring them to school or look at them without Father’s say-so? No. So we want to know who you are. Because if you’ve read them and you understand them – which we think you do – than that is something.”

Something clicked in Severus’s head. He took the time to smooth his hair while he thought. “My mother’s family disowned her when she married my father. I have no siblings. I knew no other kids when I was growing up. We didn’t have much money, so I mostly had to make do with my mother’s old books. I wasn’t so into her school books but I liked those ones. I had nothing to do growing up. So I read them.”

“Again and again?” Steven asked.

Severus nodded. “Sometimes I would aid my mother when she made potions. She sells some, you know, because my father doesn’t make much money. I like potions.” He hesitated. “I like the Dark Arts.”

“Wow,” Oswald said. “So you have a good knowledge of what’s in those books? I mean, you remember a lot of that?”

Severus nodded again. “Please don’t tell anyone. I know two of them are in the Restricted Section and I’d rather this whole thing not get out.”

“Sure, of course,” Oswald said, waving a dismissive hand. “It is a little interesting, I think. Well … see you, Severus.”

A few moments past. Severus heard the sounds of them grabbing their bags and leaving. He exited the bathroom once he was sure they were all gone. The room was empty, expect for Pumpkin, who now seemed to be awake. He opened his trunk up. His three Dark Arts books were sitting in clear view at the top. The one was not such a big deal. It had been, after all, one of his mother’s textbooks. The other two, however, were not something he was keen on sharing. He draped his nightshirt over them. Closing the lid to his trunk, Severus grabbed his school bag and made to leave for breakfast.

It took a while for him to make it to the Great Hall and once he did it was clear breakfast was nearly over. Slughorn was passing out schedules. Severus ate a piece of toast while he waited, sitting down near the doors and away from the gang he had sat with the night before. When Severus received his schedule from the rotund man with a bushy mustache and a small thatch of hair, he was relieved to see his first class was going to be Potions. Oswald came hurrying down the table shortly after. He clasped a hand onto Severus’s shoulder as he was trying to get a drink of pumpkin juice. “What?” he spluttered.

“So you’ve got a hand for potions, right? You’re good at potions and you have no friends, right?” Oswald whispered urgently, bending to whisper in his ear. Severus nodded, scowling. The fact that he came to Hogwarts with no friends and no family was not something he was proud of. “Well,” Oswald said, lowering his voice even further, “do you want to be partners?”

Severus put down his goblet. “You want to work together in Potions?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” Oswald confirmed. “Lucius was telling us all about it. Will you please work with me?” He sounded panicked.

“Why are you so upset?” Severus asked. “It’s not hard.” He had not done much to help his mother but fiddle with the ingredients and stir occasionally but he was not going to complain if this information put him in higher esteem with his classmates.

Oswald bent done even further, his voice a hiss. “I am afraid. I am afraid of making potions. Will you,” he paused, “ _please_ be my partner? Before someone else tries to get you?”

Severus looked up. How far could he stretch his luck? “You have to be nicer to me.” It sounded pathetic and he regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth.

“Deal!” Oswald said. “Thank you!” He went running back to join his friends.

Severus left breakfast early to find the Potions classroom. It felt bad to be sitting alone and he was eager to get the day started. He hoped his nerves would then disappear. He was the first outside the Potions class but he was soon joined by a group of Gryffindors. If Sirius Black’s mother had been bothered by the fact that he was not a Slytherin, either Black himself did not know or did not care. He was laughing with James Potter; the two of them seemed to have hit it off.

The other Slytherins joined them shortly. Evan was giving a nasty look to a Hufflepuff they all knew to be Muggleborn. The fact he was so open about that while he father was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement did not seem wise. It seemed like the type of thing that would raise questions about whether Mr. Rosier was fit for the job.

Oswald gave him a smile as Slughorn approached. By the end of the day, it seemed what Severus had suspected was right. He had no money or connections, he knew none of his fellows and he clearly came from a working class family. But what he did have was a natural gift for potions and an extensive knowledge of different curses. This seemed to make up for most of his other faults, for even Evan had wanted Severus’s assistance with their short Defence essay.

If he could just keep this up, Severus knew, he would be well on his way to making friends with these people – and that had been just what his mother had advised him to do.


End file.
